Signal Fire
by onwingsofsnark
Summary: Sometimes, the right words are the hardest to find. SoulxMaka.


_A/N: The name comes from the song by Snow Patrol. XD I hope you enjoy…_

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Signal Fire

_The perfect words never crossed my mind,_

'_Cause there was nothing in there but you._

_I felt every ounce of me screaming out,_

_But the sound was trapped deep in me."_

_-Snow Patrol, "Signal Fire"_

It was easy being cool. It was easy pretending you had everything under control. It was easy to show the world the same face day after day. It was easy telling them you knew exactly what was happening. It was _easy_ in comparison.

However, wasn't easy to be cool with a girl who knew you almost as good as you knew yourself.

She was dressed for Shibusen's anniversary party, long legs accentuated by her purple dress. She'd taken the time to curl the small pigtails she wore, the ends twisting beautifully around her face. She'd taken such pains to do that specifically to look _nice_. The girl had spent _forever_ trying to get the curls to match so Kid wouldn't have a spasm over the lack of balance.

He simply lounged on the couch, hating the party already. He might look nice in his suit, black balancing the stark white of his hair, but it was uncomfortable and he cursed the friendship and student-status that bound him to attend a formal function. But when she emerged from the bathroom, dressed in her purple outfit, a faint trace of make-up on her face, his list of cool-things-to-do told him now was the time to compliment her on how nice she looked in comparison to her usual garb.

_Just do it. You know the words._

But he found he didn't. The only thing he could come up with was something sarcastic or rude, neither of which would start the night off well. He found his brain on pause as she blinked at him with her wide eyes.

"Soul? Are you even ready to go?"

Her voice shattered the internal rage telling him to do _something_, tell her _anything_. He floundered for a second mentally, but only ever showed the cool exterior to his meister.

He was cool; he had everything under control.

Still he couldn't create the words to compliment Maka on her dress. What a failure he was. For a second, he was stuck to the couch, trying to fight the urge to give her a smirk and tell her she cleaned up nice for having such tiny boobs.

Finally, he stood. Content that her weapon was finally moving again, she left the living room to go search her room for something she might have forgotten at the last minute. Soul stayed put, completely unable to move. _Again_.

_This is so uncool… Think! Tell her something! 'Hey, Maka, nice dress.' Is it really that hard?_

Words spilled from his lips. "You're taking forever." He complained, habitually sticking his hands into his pockets. Already, the boy was mentally berating himself.

Maka's head appeared from the doorway. "Just because _you_ can get away with not doing anything to your hair doesn't mean _all_ of us can, idiot." She disappeared again, and he sighed. There was little point in debating. They were attending the anniversary of Shibusen's opening, and there was nothing he could do to avoid it.

She reappeared, and he noticed a minor change. She'd found some sort of bracelet and matching necklace that somehow made her look less formal. With an exclamation Maka dove back into her room, and objects flew out of her room as she dug through her things. Quickly, she hopped out of her room, shoving strapped heels onto her feet.

As if her legs needed any artificial lengthening techniques.

"Ready!" She shouted, heels now clicking against the tile. The girl sped towards the door, grabbing his hand on the way. He had enough time to grab his motorcycle keys and be dragged outside. Soul was still trying to figure out if there _was _a good phrase right now, a _cool guy_ phrase he could throw out.

He glanced at the school in the distance while Maka locked up the apartment. "We're walking?" He asked stupidly. Maka was missing her usual ammunition, but still managed to whack his head with her hand.

"No, _Soul_. You're driving." He rolled his eyes. _Should've guessed that one. _Maka frowned and he pulled the keys out of his pocket. He got onto the vehicle and felt it move as Maka climbed on next to him, hands resting on his waist. He couldn't help but notice the faint traces of a tempting perfume that clung to her.

The motorcycle roared to life at the twist of the key and he took off, intentionally speeding down the street. Because cool guys made their girls squeal. Only Maka took much more effort than the usual girl did; still, he was slowly learning what made her irritated and what made her laugh. This time, however, he was smacked for being reckless.

He peered through the wind. Maka was his partner; he supposed she was cool enough for him. He couldn't tell her that, though. He enjoyed pointing out just how _un_cool she was. Still, under all the lies that kept him cool and controlled, a soul struggling against insanity was there, and she was there too.

_She's like a lamp to me. A guiding light._

They were words he'd never tell Maka. She'd laugh and tell him they were too sappy and too uncool for him, and he'd dismiss the words, telling her they weren't what he meant, and there would be a few more lies. They might fight over it; he might get hit for being ridiculous.

He grinned into the wind, the scent of Maka's perfume still lingering in his nose. _You look nice tonight, Maka._

Always, though, he found forgiveness with her after fights, in her wide green eyes. She was forever marked to be his melodic music to fight the the dark of his soul.

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_A/N: Oneshots... I love to write them. Apparently, I don't get enough fluff. XD_

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Reviews are love~_


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